


Mulling Over Mentors

by Xandad



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Minor Violence, Sometime after WBaWC, Touhou PC-98 Era, twisting the story a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xandad/pseuds/Xandad
Summary: After having run-ins with raucous spirits, a certain one eeks its way back into Marisa's mind for the first time in a while.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Mulling Over Mentors

It's a standard, mundane summer morning over the Hakurei Shrine. After years of change to the climate around it, both atmospherically and socially, the mornings manage to keep themselves the same. The shrine's quintessential miko, Reimu, faces the tides of dawn, gets dressed in her maiden's clothes, and sets out for the day. She emerges from the shrine's inner sanctum, a pair of teacups prepared on a platter in her hands. For years, she's done this exact routine unless explicitly told otherwise. The reason? A certain guest will whisk in from the Forest of Magic at breakneck speeds, filled with more pep than she can physically withhold herself. Reimu looks towards the glistening sky, squinting harshly to find her regular amidst the sunlight, the harsh light of the cloudless blue being a bit much for her eyes at this hour.

However, as if on cue with her straining face, atop a broomstick, her boredom's savior arrives. Marisa Kirisame, at this point her bosom buddy, comes racing down, nearly divebombing the cobblestone path leading to her. Skidding to a stop, kicking gravel up along the way, Marisa makes her excessive entrance, soon just resorting to walk towards the seated Reimu.

"Oi Reimu, good mornin'!" she exclaims, excitedly waving a hand over her head. In response, Reimu raises her own hand weakly, setting it back on the tea platter, awaiting Marisa to sit next to her. It's a case of same shit, different day, frankly. As also expected, Marisa does exactly as Reimu predicted, turning around and clumsily collapsing her knees to thud her ass against the wooden porch, apparently unable to not perform simple tasks without being somewhat disruptive. At an earlier junction, Marisa'd be immediately scolded, but nowadays Reimu's both used to her quirks and admittedly charmed by how consistent they are. Without saying a word, Reimu hands Marisa a cup of tea, blend catered to Gensokyo's aspiring magician's tastes. Also known as, whatever Reimu made for herself but loaded with enough sugar to sate Marisa's picky tongue.

Just a week prior, the two, alongside Youmu Konpaku, Hakugyokurou's signature gardener, got wrapped up in an incident that hardly involved their own voluntary actions. Rampant spirits had come to take over Gensokyo, triggered by a combination of warring factions in Hell, an idol crafting god trying to partition it, and the outraged spectral masses. While at the end of the day, the incident got resolved like it always does, everyone who had a hand in its quashing left with hazy memories. Also, consensus says that being possessed by a disgruntled animal's ghost is one of the least pleasant things anyone could experience.

The incident with the animal spirits has left Gensokyo uneasy, even if it's unlikely to happen again. It was truly one of the more bizarre incidents to plague the region, right up there with the teleporting shrine from the Outside World and the literal invasion on the moon. Such dubious circumstances would leave many unsettled after its onset. Despite all of this, though, the Hakurei Shrine maiden and her magical partner in crime keep to their own status quo, enjoying the morning as it comes and goes. 

“Really outdid yourself today, y’know,” Marisa remarks with a wink and smile in Reimu’s direction, this having no physical effect.

“If I paid every time you’ve said that for cubes of sugar in your tea, I could stud every jizo I see with pure gold and emeralds until I die.” This warrants a nudge from Marisa, who’s begun to get giggly. If Reimu’s charmed by Marisa’s energetic attitude, Marisa is charmed by Reimu’s dry one. Obviously, this is restricted to the mornings, as Marisa of all people can attest to her friend’s tendencies when prospects or alcohol are involved.

“Just take the dang compliment.” Another break of silence as the girls tend to their drinks, not making eye contact with one another. Reimu’s eyes lock to the ground below, Marisa’s to the sky above. There’s one benefit to having a superfluous witch’s hat on at all times: the shade it provides is wonderful. Despite it being summer, it’s an absolutely gorgeous day, nature in full bloom and the air at a Goldilocks state, not too brisk nor balmy, just perfect. 

Yet, even in such lovely weather, the dynamic duo still finds themselves unnerved. Truthfully, even though it’s rare either of them is truly at risk of serious injury or death during an incident these days, the resolution of these more dire ones should be met with earnest breaks. To resume normal life after an experience that would traumatize a regular human beyond repair, and so quickly too, is hardly wise. So, conversation has been light these past few days they’ve convened. Even amidst their respective gaggles of peers, Reimu and Marisa have only been each other’s company lately, outside of a consultation by Yachie immediately after the incident, nights being spent alone once they’ve adjourned.

“Today’s nice,” Marisa comments, pulling the brim of her hat up as her eyes dart to look at Reimu, who at this point is fiddling with her cup’s handle. While she’s known Reimu to nervously toy with things in her hands often, such as seals or her gohei, she knows something’s up when Reimu is flicking at a half-empty beverage’s container.

“Almost too nice, I’d wager,” Reimu responds, now looking to her right past Marisa, out of suspicion that something may be dwelling in the bushes in that direction. She is a common target for pranks by a certain trio of fairies, after all, so an errant fairy bomb or stray stone tossed would be the perfect damper to a good start to the day. Usually, she’s not wound up about this prospect whatsoever though, as she’s capable of trouncing them without a second thought anyways, but circumstances are different today.

“Doubt you’ll find anything more interesting than a butterfly over there.” Marisa looks to her right as well, using both what she sees and better judgement to determine that shenanigans are unlikely right now. While Reimu hasn’t been completely spared by the nonsense of some small fry, lately the coast has been clear. Since that incident with the hidden goddess and the fairies turning to crystalline cherries, Marisa has noted that fairies are opting to indulge in recreational activities as opposed to pranks. Parties, “canyoning,” the likes. It’s similar to when old people spend way too much of their savings during their midlife crisis, but with what are essentially immortal flying children. 

Reimu resets her posture, inhaling deeply through her nose and sighing, slumping forward. “I know, but, I can’t help it today.” It’s a classic case of cherophobia, not wanting to enjoy her time in fear that something will throw a monkey wrench in it. “I’m done skirting around it, whatever happened in Hell and with those animal spirits, it’s drained me.” Since then, it’s the first time either of them have brought it up to one another. 

“Tell me about it, I haven’t been sleepin’ well, it’s makin’ me shirk my work more than I’d ever want to,” Marisa remarks, setting aside her also unfinished beverage, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. 

“That’s when I know when it’s bad, every time you’re here, you’re passed out before ten and snoring my ears off.” Reimu gives Marisa a lazy gaze, her statement having been uttered with no gusto behind it. 

“Sleep’s as valuable as studyin’, y’know, I can’t give it my all without a reservoir of energy,” Marisa says, returning a similarly lackadaisical expression. “But, I gotta agree with ya, I haven’t been the same. I think it had somethin’ to do with being taken over and, used like that, and bein’…” Marisa brings her hands up to her face, straining her fingers as she struggles to find the right word to describe her emotion.

Reimu chimes in, her bluntness serving its purpose in formulating Marisa’s feelings for her, “powerless?”

“Yeah.” Marisa leans back, propping her back up with her hands, looking at the shrine’s overhang now. The only sound that accompanies the two is the light breeze and chatter of the overhead birds. While merging with the whims of another has been done by either of them multiple times, this scenario was far different. It was less a merger and more of a hostile takeover.

Marisa crosses a leg over the other, swinging both legs up and down momentarily, having something else on the back of her mind. Reimu, having the advantage of knowing this girl for years, catches on, turning her head and making direct eye contact. She speaks up flatly, “there’s something else bothering you, you’re not subtle about this type of thing.” What she’s met with is Marisa clamming up and pulling the brim of her hat over her eyes, as if she’s embarrassed to talk about what’s been bugging her. 

Now this, is incredibly uncharacteristic, Reimu thinks to herself. Whenever Marisa is flustered and wants to avoid speaking about something she should talk about, she typically makes up some hairbrained excuse or legit absconds the scene. Complete and utter silence on the other hand, screams that something more distressing has worked its way into her mind. Reimu reflects this by growing a somber reflection, adopting a softer tone.

“Marisa, come on, this isn’t like you,” Reimu states, lightly putting a hand on her companion’s shoulder, trying to gaze past that hat’s ridiculous brim.

“I’ve just gotten to thinkin’, Reimu,” Marisa replies, swifter than Reimu thought. “All this talk about spirits, usin’ people for their power, has reached my dreams, whatever little I get of ‘em.” 

“How so?” Reimu pries, retracting her hand to instead sit upright and give Marisa space. She has a sneaking feeling that Marisa’s about to go on quite a tangent, as if something had percolating in the other’s mind for perhaps longer than this past week. If recent times have been telling whatsoever, Reimu knows to take dreams seriously, especially those of someone welled in magic like Marisa.

“In my dreams lately, I’ve been put back in time, lookin’ at some horrifyin’ visage, greeted by some sorta youkai or demon. I myself got nothin’ on me, no hakkero, no bag of tricks, just a pair of useless hands.” As Marisa elaborates, her tone grows choppier, as if there’s a stressor towards the end of this that she knows she cannot shake but doesn’t want to cross. “They all end the same, whatever creature is tryin’ to get me is slain by someone else, and I hear a voice tell me…” Marisa goes quiet again, putting both of her boots on the ground and nervously bouncing her leg. 

“Tell you what?” This is a rare occurrence for Reimu to see: Marisa distressed. While she regularly has problems of not knowing when to push people or not, she has an inkling that Marisa shouldn’t internalize this.

_”I thought you were better than this. I suppose you are meaningless, with what little power you have.”_

Such words coming from Marisa just feels vile, so if this has been haunting her, Reimu can see why she’s run into these restless nights. Despite being her friend, she has no idea what to say in this matter, stunned at this in the first place. Albeit, she’s heard Marisa say some truly outrageous things, but context matters. 

“And you know whose voice is telling me this?” Marisa asks, obviously knowing the answer herself. She corrects her posture in an attempt to get composed, taking in a couple deep breaths. The look she gives Reimu is a split-eyed, frenzied stare. Reimu merely nods her head from side-to-side, not having a clue towards the answer while also being mildly mortified.

“It all ends the same,” Marisa repeats, her face blank and nigh unreadable, “I turn around, and I swear I see her, Lady Mima.”

Reimu’s eyes mimic Marisa’s, splitting wide open in shock. A name she hasn’t heard in ages, since she was just freshly inaugurated as the Hakurei Shrine Maiden. Reimu swallows deeply, blinking frantically, just asking, “your old mentor, tormenting you now?” It’s almost like she’s more affected by this than the one actually having the nightmares.

Then, out of the blue, Marisa kicks back again, putting her hands behind her head. “Like she’d ever, though, I think my brain’s just makin’ correlations that don’t really mean anythin’.” 

The thought of Mima, Marisa’s teacher, is an incredibly fickle one to tread. The evil spirit had a very decorated history with the duo, serving as tutelage for one and the seemingly eternal nemesis for the other. What had occurred due to her existence was a sequence of events that brought the two together, but the ending of it all has threatened to break them apart.

Once Reimu got a handle on flight and how to not only use one of the Yin-Yang Orbs, but multiples, changes had to come. The most notable is her enacting the spell card rules, meaning that overwhelmingly strong youkai and gods could not victimize the weak, the passing of which seeming nothing short of a miracle. This was put in place after the debacle in Makai, where the termination of the entire land’s populace by their rampant god inspired change for the better, to prevent such mindless destruction from ever happening again.

Of course, there would be detractors, those with power would not want to cough it up for no return after all. Mima was one, a power-hungry spirit who never gave up on the prospect of total domination of Gensokyo and beyond. Despite her strength and efficiency in magic, though, there are little that can overcome the might of Reimu on a mission as dire as setting the chaotic Gensokyo righteous. So, on the grounds of the Hakurei Shrine, without a spectator in sight, the two had a destructive duel, resulting in the sealing of Mima within the shrine. This was during a time where Reimu full-on exterminated or sealed youkai and spirits still, Mima being marked as the last to fall victim. With its conclusion died the ways of the old Gensokyo, the peaceful future settling in. While part of her notoriety was from her ability to break seals, those weak binds were made by a lesser experienced miko. So, to this day, Mima’s restrained spirit still rests in the shrine’s hokora, little to no chance of breaking free of her own volition. Mima had no peers other than her disciple, so it’s not as if anyone will come looking for her.

The damning part of this to Reimu lies in the fact that, to this day, years down the line, entering their adulthoods together, she’s never told Marisa about that encounter. She never had the gall to announce it at the time it happened and has just shoved it aside to this day. For a short while, Marisa would often ask questions like, “I wonder where Lady Mima is?” Understandably so, for such a close figure to just up and disappear like that, it’d raise questions. Reimu would dismiss them with, “probably scheming mayhem and wanting to make my life worse,” and that’d be the end of that. At some point, the conversations centered around Mima had stopped altogether, much to her own relief. It’s a secret Reimu’s wanted to take to her grave. She couldn’t imagine the fallout if Marisa solved the puzzle. For crying out loud, Mima’s the only person Marisa’s ever referred to as “Lady” anything, that’s what’s always said enough for her.

“Lady Mima was always pretty tough, but she’d say things like,” Marisa continues, shattering Reimu’s train of thought. Marisa stiffens up her posture, putting on a goofy, exaggerated expression, a total 180 from what she appeared like just a minute ago, “you WILL be worthless IF you don’t put in the work.” She attempts to say this in an older woman’s tone, just sounding like a doofus at the end of the day. Yeesh, she can’t even stay serious for over a few minutes sometimes, Reimu thinks. She opts not to interject in Marisa’s spiel, mostly due to be frozen in panic of this escalating to those old questions.

“Understandably, an evil spirit’s gonna be pretty harsh, even on little me, but Gensokyo was rougher back then, so it’s what I needed to hear to make it, better than what my folks had to say.” Marisa now looks over to Reimu, a grin that had formed on her face slowly waning before turning to a more quizzical gaze.

“Actually, thinkin’ about it, did I ever tell ya how Lady Mima and I met?” she asks, putting a hand to her chin to sell home the pensiveness. 

Reimu breathes a mental sigh of relief, now preparing to hear an elaborate backstory as opposed to having to dodge questions while woefully unqualified to. “I could somewhat piece together your origins but, no, you’ve never laid them out for me cohesively.” All Reimu knows about is that Marisa had a falling out with her folks and ran into Mima, then her, then the rest is history. But, all the nuance and Marisa’s true feelings about it all haven't been conveyed to her. 

“Well, since ya look stunned at the thought of her, lemme regale you,” Marisa states, putting her hands together, “it’s a pretty interestin’ tale, maybe you won’t quiver in your shoes after you hear how she really was.” 

Yeah, that’s the reason, Reimu thinks, having to buy into it for now.

* * *

A girl had disappeared from the home of a merchant in the dead of night. Said family had ties with local shrines to ensure their home was protected from all manner of youkai or ghoul attempting to whisk away them or their goods. However, from the sounds of it, nothing had worked to any avail. Search parties from the Human Village were sent to its borders, but with the primary solver of crimes such as this nearing her own death, her successor still too amateurish to take it on, defeat had sullied the village. It was ruled as a paranormal kidnapping and no one was to investigate any further.

What wasn’t known, though, was that there was more behind the story. The girl had been studying arcane arts, something deemed very forbidden by those in the village. Doctrines were put in place since the last heir of the Miare clan documented the risk toying with forces unknown, stating that regular humans could themselves become insatiable youkai. The girl, being no older than twelve, was only given a light scolding and punishment by her parents. Some people make decisions like such, unaware of the consequences of blocking a passionate, impressionable youth.

The girl pleaded with her father, stating that magic could be used for good. She wanted to master magic, to dispel the evil youkai that’d been plaguing those she cared about. Heroic in gesture, but still seen as utterly ridiculous and naïve. She was thoroughly scolded, her father’s booming voice heard even by passerbys and neighbors. As he stated, she was to take over the family business and become a merchant. No more, no less.

To one so enthralled with something so superficial to be told that their entire life ahead of them is to be spent doing mundane tasks due to nothing but lineage alone, is a breaking point. The girl had snuck out of home in her pajamas, carrying in tow some stolen food from her family and her chicken scratch grimoire in a burlap sack almost too hefty for her to carry. She didn’t ditch to a friend’s home, as she had no peers, despite being sociable. So, against all recommendations, all odds, and certainly all logic, she’d fled the Human Village to the first direction she saw fit. Some witnesses say they saw a small burglar on the loose, scampering away, but no one bothered to stop her or remark where she’d departed to. Not like anyone would send the unqualified outside the borders to begin with.

“C’mon… stupid legs, get movin’,” a young Marisa murmurs to herself, feeling fatigue all throughout her body. Outside of situational snacking on bread and water, she hadn’t had much energy left in her. All the adrenaline of running away from home had been drained, herself mentally coming to terms with her maybe having made a huge mistake. The conviction of rather dying than live her life without control of it was less mighty, fear slowly beginning to take its place. Even worse, she barely registered the route she took to arrive here, meaning getting back home would prove massively difficult.

She’d entered a clearing amidst a massive forest, having seen no signs of life outside of the foliage anywhere. For someone so small, she’d made it a considerable distance away from the village. It’d only been a few hours since her departure, but most of the time after sprinting out of the village was filled with brisk walking, not much time for stopping regardless. Even for a young book nerd, Marisa’s hyperactivity benefits her, meaning she’s got a long-lasting motor. 

Though, no one’s perfect, and a child certainly doesn’t have infinite stamina. Marisa props herself against a tree, heaving for air. Her knees are feeble, bound to collapse at any moment and send her hurdling towards the dirt. It’s only staunch determination that keeps her going at this point, now coupled with a growing sense of unease.

She knows something isn’t right. Even with her mind in a haze due to exhaustion, what she’d studied and heard from the locals dictates that the realms outside of the Human Village were full of nothing but youkai out to eat people whole, harvest their organs, steal their identities, and a myriad of other deplorable acts. Yet, here she is, the moon shining bright above her, a good distance into the thick of the wilderness, and nothing. 

Was it all a farce, she thinks? Some elaborate ruse to keep people contained and sedentary, content with their disposable lives? It takes a few meters out of walking from the tree, but Marisa’s legs finally give out, knees harshly thudding on the ground below. Her slightly emptied burlap sack spills with her, some of its contents falling out. Scarlet bangs fall over her eyes, herself having barely any energy left. Here is where she thinks to herself, why? Why did I come all this way? It was an impulse taken to the extreme, stranding her in uncertain territory.

Well, any uncertainty doesn’t last for long, as the suspicions about Gensokyo at large manifest themselves for the runaway at-large. The sound of an unsteady breeze in the still air comes around, Marisa not even paying a gust mind. That is until the source of its power comes to fruition, a large floating eyeball with bat-like wings, its monocular vision focused entirely on the human girl. The heavy beating of its wings is what gets the drained Marisa to perk up, then jump back in her set, landing hard on her rear and being stunned in a sitting position.

This unsightly creature is familiar to her, as it’s commonly present in bestiaries in the Human Village. It’s an Evil Eye, a low-level, dull youkai that move in swarms. In front of her is just the one, though, and despite her condition, Marisa has the unfounded confidence to swear she can take this thing on. All she’s gotta do is lumber to her feet, and… fall over again.

The Evil Eye does nothing in response to any of this movement, more so just staring at Marisa with simpleminded curiosity, like she’s the first human it has seen in its lifetime. On the other hand, Marisa has entered full panic mode. She knows that to cast a simple spell, a simple projectile, you must have something to channel it through. Her hands avert to a discarded branch on the ground, fumbling with it in her fingers before picking it up. With no composure or focus, she points it at the Evil Eye, mouth attempting to make the words to cast one of two cantrips she knows. Her lips hardly move, resulting in an improper incantation.

What occurs is that a small ember moves from her hand to the point of the stick, serving no more than to char its tip and some of her fingers. The Evil Eye, seemingly having had enough of this human’s curious behavior, reveals its intentions: consumption. Under its eye is a crease, which when all is set in motion, reveals a large, unsettling mouth with jaded teeth and a long tongue. 

This is it, Marisa thinks to herself. She knows that this is the reprimands she had coming for her since she made the foolish decision to run away. To disappear without many thinking about you or even saying your good-byes is a pitiful way to go, but it’s what she’s chosen. The lowly youkai charges at her, its ravenous maw awaiting dinner. Marisa throws an arm in front of her face, as if that’d totally block the incoming assault. In the nick of time, before Marisa can even register what’s about to happen, a loud swoosh is heard, and she gets splashed in blood that isn’t even her own.

Astonished, Marisa looks to her sides to find two halves of a bisected Evil Eye, red staining the moonlit grass its pieces lie on. 

“I thought I had these wastes of air cleared out from here,” a mature woman’s voice dictates through the quiet night air, continuing, “I must be getting sloppy.” 

Frozen in shock, fear, and utter confusion, Marisa’s tired eyes gaze up at whatever has taken that youkai’s place. What she sees is an imposing figure, a woman with green hair, bellowed out blue-green dress, and a sun patterned cap. The figure wields massive crescent scepter, said weapon looking to be what did the dirty deed, an assortment of liquid dripping from its pointed tips. Last notable bit about her is the lack of legs, a wispy white tail keeping this individual afloat. As if in sync, once Marisa comprehends her new situation, this guest gets hers.

“Hm, and what have we here?” the woman asks, eyes shooting straight through Marisa’s soul, intimidation doing its job. “A human who has made it this far without getting herself eaten, and not even a grown one, but one so young.” 

Marisa scurries to her feet, miraculously managing to stand upright despite all of this. Coated in the blood of a youkai and plagued with insurmountable uncertainty, she’s got two feet on the ground, and to her fight-or-flight, that’s all that matters. Unlike earlier, she manages to squeak out a few words, knowing she might receive some sort of response. Or that scepter slicing her apart as well, but at least that’d be quick.

“W-who are you?” Marisa asks feebly, unbelievably rattled in the moment. Some part of her knows that going silent right now is not what’ll get her anywhere and perhaps this floating stranger may lead her to a safer location. Even though the stranger’s wispy tail implies she’s some sort of spirit, she’ll take dealing with the dead over joining them any day.

“Me?” the spirit asks, quirking a brow before stabbing the hilt of the scepter into the ground, placing her other hand on her hip. “I am Mima, the mightiest spirit and soon to be ruler of Gensokyo, be fortunate that I am even allowing you time to speak with me, whatever little you have left.”

“Whatever little I have left?” Of course, she has to meet with a cryptic character when all she wants to know is what the hell she has in store. Regardless, this is the first contact with anyone intelligent in hours, so she only says so much and listens to whatever Mima has to tell her.

“Have you not put it together already?” Mima retorts, scoffing and looking down to Marisa as if she’s speaking with an inconsolable moron. “You are merely a meal for even the most meaningless of youkai wondering through these parts, consider yourself lucky you made it this far.”

“But…” Marisa responds, the chaos of the previous few minutes and the overwhelming weight of circumstance finally taking its mental toll, streams of tears leaving drooping eyes. “I don’t wanna die! I didn’t know this is how things were gonna be!” The tears of a child’s desolate hopes don’t ring true with the spirit, Mima, growing tired of Marisa’s sobbing already.

“Well, then that is too bad,” Mima states, pulling her scepter out of the ground, ready to leave to her own dubious devices, “you humans are kept in that cage for a reason, I am surprised anyone would think it is within their benefit to leave.” 

That’s too bad? _That’s too bad?_ Those three words flip a switch in Marisa’s psyche, turning that feeling of utter hopelessness into unbridled rage instantly. With reckless abandon, Marisa has it within her to throw whatever’s in her hand, that being the stick she failed to cast a spell from. With the hobbled strength of a twelve-year-old girl, she whips the branch right towards Mima, the spirit effortlessly catching it in her free hand. 

Mima repeats her glare from earlier, twirling the stick in her hand, whispering to herself, “faced with the point of no return, she has the gall to oppose someone as strong as I.” Her eyes gaze to the charred piece of wood, squinting at it curiously before looking to Marisa again, but specifically her hand. Burns on the inside of her thumb, skin heated to an unsightly brown. Not much in the realm of logic explains this, but in the realm of magic, there’s an easy one. There’s more to this girl than meets the eye.

“Hmm, perhaps you have some potential,” Mima states, putting the crescent end of her scepter over her shoulder, looking at Marisa with a devious smile, “perhaps, you are worth keeping, with what little power you have.”

* * *

“So, let me get this straight,” Reimu says, raising her fist before putting out her index finger, “you run away from home.”

“Mmhm.”

“Make it hours away of the Human Village without getting detected.” Another finger up, middle one.

“Yep.”

“Run into an Evil Eye about to eat you, only to get saved by a rampant spirit.” Ring finger. Reimu thinks to herself, noting that this is the first time in a while since she’s last even thought about an Evil Eye.

“Correct.”

“Then you throw a stick at her and she decides to take pity on you.” And up goes the pinky. 

“Absolutely!” Marisa bears a wide smile, a welcome sight after the doom and gloom from earlier. She points a thumb at herself, radiating her ego, “also, it was potential, not pity.”

“Either way, that’s the most Marisa thing I’ve heard in a while,” Reimu states, picking up her now depressingly lukewarm few sips of tea left, taking a final drink, “what a stroke of luck.”

Marisa relaxes herself some more, laying her back flat on the porch, raising a hand towards the distant overhang. “To think if I don’t make one hairbrained decision or two, I’m rottin’ at my dad’s decrepit re-sale store, or dead,” she elaborates, scoffing at the thought of either. It goes without saying that both are happy for a younger Marisa’s impulses.

While this has been a pleasant distraction from the guilt bubbling at her core, Reimu still can’t help but start to feel exponentially worse the more Marisa describes her former mentor. It’s total opposites of a spectrum, one feeling incredible nostalgia and the other feeling overwhelming dread. 

“Ya gotta thank Lady Mima yourself, when ya get the chance,” Marisa says, putting both her hands behind her head as a makeshift pillow, “without her takin’ me in and teachin’ me the ways of magic, you and I don’t become Gensokyo’s best incident solvin’ duo.”

“If I ever see her again, I’m pretty sure thanks are last on my list of priorities,” Reimu replies, putting her empty cup beside her. She hunches forward, looking up to the sky, pensive. “How long ago was that, now?”

“Well, I was thirteen when Lady Mima drew that scheme, just turned nineteen last month, so, six years, give or take some months.” 

In the grand scheme of things, six years if both not that long ago and an eternity. When you’re as active as these two, days don’t exactly tend to fly by and be wasted. Even on “boring” days, there’s always something time-consuming to be done. 

“Six years ago, your hair was red,” Reimu remarks, using her hand to gently take a strand of Marisa’s hair off the porch, double-checking to make sure that yep, she’s still blonde, “I wonder what happened to that.”

“Got sick of lookin’ at myself in a mirror and seein’ my old man’s hair on my head,” Marisa states, mild disgust in her voice, “as a matter of fact…”

* * *

_Knock knock knock!_

“You can come in, Marisa.”

The door to Mima’s study creaks, her young, recently trounced protégé waltzing into it. Marisa’s eyes gaze directly at the floor, too embarrassed to think about making eye-contact. 

Despite being an evil spirit with no ties to the living, Mima maintains a nice home in the Forest of Magic that can accommodate her and Marisa, granted that Marisa sleeps on a couch. No questions have been asked about it in the past, none prepared for the future. Mima floats near a dresser of hers, returning some books from her desk to their respectful shelves. Also odd that a ghost has a desk, but whatever keeps her sated.

“Lady Mima, I-“ 

“Do not bother apologizing,” Mima states, waving a hand limply at Marisa, “what had happened is all of my own fault.”

“Huh!?” Marisa exclaims, absolutely at a loss for words for what she’d just heard. Her mighty mentor, Lady Mima, the most terrible spirit in all of Gensokyo, admitting to her own failure? It comes like a sucker punch to the jaw, Marisa having to discard an entire speech she’d rehearsed in her head to now do it by ear. 

Mima turns to face Marisa, approaching her slowly before de-escalating to the smaller girl’s height. “Surprised, are you?” she asks, scratching the back of her head. “I have only been teaching you the ways of magic for a year now, and you expected to defeat the Hakurei Shrine Maiden?” Mima shakes her head from side-to-side before putting a few fingers under Marisa’s chin, lightly tilting her head up.

“I know you came in here, expecting me to lecture you with, ‘I thought you were better than this,’ but that simply is not the truth.” Mima analyzes Marisa’s face some, sensing the presence of previously dried tears and guilt. Intentionally or not, she sees that comforting Marisa is the best thing to do here. “If I failed to bring her down, you had no chance, I suppose that is my fault for underestimating her.” Suddenly, she takes notice of Marisa’s face changing from miserable to one of slight vigor, similar to the switch she’d witnessed on their first encounter.

“I’ll get her next time!” Marisa exclaims, putting both her hands into fists and tensing up. “If I want to become the strongest magician in Gensokyo, I can’t be losing to some shrine maiden!” All Marisa has seen her new adversary as now is just another challenge, a hurdle to overcome for her ultimate goal to be achieved. Mima chuckles in response, glad to see that Marisa’s characteristic insane effort rarely goes away even in times of strife.

“The Hakurei Shrine Maidens are prodigies almost bred to take the place of and improve upon the old,” Mima states, removing her hand from Marisa’s chin and placing it on one of her fists, “that girl has probably been training since she was in diapers, and if you get the upper hand on her so swiftly, you might usurp me.” With that said, Marisa’s eyes almost start sparkling with excitement. This is the first time in the year of training under Mima that she’s heard anything remotely close to a compliment. While there was no direct praise here, it’s as close as it gets. Mima’s a rigid instructor, but with Marisa being an apt and studious student, they’re quite a duo and have made remarkable progress in the aspiring magician’s arcane advancements. Just a year prior, Marisa could hardly launch a projectile, but now she’s got a wide assortment of complex spells under her belt, with the ceiling for her appearing undefined.

Before Marisa can get too riled up, Mima squeezes her shoulder somewhat roughly, eliciting the girl to stop moving and listen. Mima’s hand releases, and the spirit has both arms at her sides. “Now, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but there is something we need to change starting tonight.”

“What’s that?” Marisa responds, mind running amok with a platitude of potential alterations. Something to the routine, a new line of spells, or perhaps even a workout regimen?

“Your appearance,” Mima states flatly, pointing to the top of Marisa’s now crumpled purple hat to her battered shoes, “those hand-me-downs were fine in the moment, but they’ve become unsightly.” This gets another sudden jump from Marisa, Mima having trouble predicting anything this girl could be thinking about. Unpredictability is nice but has the side-effect of being really annoying.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask, Lady Mima, if it doesn’t, bug ya,” Marisa says, the thought of asking a favor from Mima more imposing than any scolding. Despite having loose cannon tendencies, she always falls in line when it comes to her instructor, not ever wanting to imagine appearing ungrateful of legitimately fantastic tutelage. “If we’re talkin’ looks, can I, maybe… change my hair color, usin’ a magic of sorts?” 

For once, it’s Mima becoming off kilter, the hair statement being genuinely bizarre. She herself hasn’t tended to the green mass she calls hair in a while, it being hard to grow when your body isn’t alive. Making assumptions now is deemed an unintelligent act by her, Mima not wanting to make guesses to such an outlandish request. However, it does yield the bonus of fitting in line with appearance, even if that was just going to involve teaching Marisa how to sew and make nicer clothes. 

“That,” Mima mumbles, scratching at her chin, pondering a slew of appearance-altering spells, “could be arranged, what color were you thinking?”

* * *

Marisa sits herself up swiftly, puffing her chest out to try getting her sternum more limber, “so, she taught me a few transformation techniques, but we never got too far into it.” She heaves out air, now going towards cracking her neck. “Say, I don’t think I remember how you said bye to the purple, I’m thankful ya did but, certainly wasn’t me.” 

Reimu has gradually begun to feel worse and worse the more she learns about the individual she’s sealed, Marisa’s recounts offering a more human perspective on someone she deemed to be pure evil. “The Yin-Yang Orb is one of my shrine’s treasures for a reason, I’m just leaving it at that,” she states, eyes glanced away from Marisa, guilt making confrontation difficult. She’s not dishonest here, at least, as the peculiar nature of the Yin-Yang Orb was part of her initiation with Genjii, shortly after dispelling Mima the first time in fact. It’s not shocking that an object that can spawn any number of sweets or just, transform into a cat, can have other properties like changing one’s appearance. 

“Figures, just thought I’d ask,” Marisa says, not too blown away by Reimu's answer. While she herself doesn't know the ins-and-outs of the Yin-Yang Orbs themselves, she does know of their almost absurd abilities, chalking up any niche task Reimu uses them for as an oddity of the Hakurei Shrine's holy grail. She leans forward, keeping that lecturer’s air about her. “I know I’ve been yammerin’ a lot, but I guess thinkin’ about Lady Mima has me kinda reminiscent today,” she continues, moving her head over to try find whatever Reimu’s looking at.

“I’m not surprised, it’s only natural that people dwell over their pasts so much,” Reimu mumbles, quickly attempting to find an anecdote herself, “I, get lost in those days too whenever I go to tend to Genjii’s pond, he always enjoys talking about how far I’ve come along.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Marisa remarks with slight bitterness, “ya get to talk with your teacher, I get stuck wonderin’ where the hell mine is.” 

That statement comes at Reimu like a box of rocks, like she somehow just struck a nerve by mentioning that old turtle. She looks to Marisa to get a read on things, noticing that she seems a bit more distressed now than she was earlier. Probably some mix of grief and frustration. Despite Mima’s constant campaign of madness, from just these little vignettes, she understands that Mima was important to her. It poses that perplexing question, what would Gensokyo be like now if she never sealed Mima away and let the spirit run amok? Truthfully, if even an unexperienced Reimu could take her prior to the spell card rules being set in place, perhaps problems would not have arisen as Mima’s power could have been overstated. There’s too many factors at play for this game of what-ifs, so Reimu stops thinking at that.

“I sometimes wonder what she coulda even gotten up to,” Marisa continues, tapping her foot lazily against the dirt under it, “we’ve been all around Gensokyo and then some, ya think she’d turn up during well, anything, right?” This is the point of no going back, Reimu tells herself, knowing that she must continue lying about this without having the heart to do so anymore. It’s difficult to run from the consequences of one’s own continued actions, after all. Another break of good fortune goes her way, as it seems she just caught Marisa rambling again.

“The last time I saw her, I remember clear as day, and not to make light of spirits ‘n all, but it kinda haunts me.”

* * *

“Oi Lady Mima, ya decent?” Marisa asks, knocking lightly on that same ol’ study door. The morning is ripe, birds chirping alongside the pitter patter of rainfall. A few years have since passed since that fateful day, both evil spirit and wannabee magician having experienced drastic changes in their lives. Marisa has grown physically and is way more capable than even she would have thought, having been able to pierce the barriers and creep into Mugenkan and help disperse the chaos in Makai. While she wasn’t singlehandedly responsible for either, being stopped by Reimu for the former and assisted by Reimu, Mima, and the flower youkai in the latter, it’s still a far cry from being a speed bump.

Marisa now adorns what would become her staple set of clothes, a buckled black witch’s outfit, adorned with buttons and frills that expand upon her old, simple, purple clothing. She’s even found a style to her newfound blonde hair, keeping it long while having a braid on her left side. 

“Come on in,” Mima replies from the door, sounding worn-out and tired. The mayhem in Makai was the most recent discourse, having been just a few days prior, so it’s not a shocker that even a spirit would want their rest. Marisa, though, has a mild inquiry that’s been nagging the back of her mind since, and swiftly enters. Unlike years prior, the study has seen some wear and tear, partially because Mima has to spend more time training Marisa and mastering her own craft as opposed to upkeep.

Shuffling aside some books at her feet, Marisa asks, “I’m assumin’ ya heard about the new regulations that are gonna be put in order?”

“How could I not?” Mima retorts, looking to Marisa with an expression that could only be read as hopeless. It’s a first for Marisa, who’s taken aback by it. Definitely a sign that there’s something amiss with her teacher. “To completely warp the fabrics that keep Gensokyo in check, just so the weak can pretend they belong amongst the strong, how irritating.” She grabs her scepter which had been leaning against the wall behind her, gripping its staff with utmost force.

“I was just thinkin’,” Marisa says, substantially more rattled than before, “how we’re gonna have to adjust, I was lookin’ maybe into flashlight spells so we don’t get imprisoned, but-.” She’s cut off by the sound of metal thudding along a wood floor, Mima looking as if she’s going to pop a vein with the blood she doesn’t have.

“We, are not adjusting,” Mima dictates, floating towards Marisa, “you can go on, but this is something I cannot stand for if my dreams are to become a reality.” Marisa zips her mouth shut, intimidated by what looks to be a fire flaming within Mima’s core. However, Mima’s harsh nature soon fades, her grip on her scepter lightening and her demeanor growing softer.

“Marisa,” she says, putting her free hand on her adopted student’s shoulder, “I am baffled as to why you have kept coming to me as of late.” She shakes her head, as if she cannot comprehend Marisa’s constant hunger for knowledge and education.

Marisa puts a hand on Mima’s, having to quickly adjust to the chill of a spirit's bare skin on her own, “well, ya kept me around and are probably the smartest woman I know in Gensokyo, and I’m in your debt, so that’s a few reasons why.”

“Enough with that,” Mima states, brushing Marisa’s hand away, meandering to the side to mindlessly begin cleaning this place, “you collaborate with that shrine maiden, opt to not seek world domineering power, and keep yourself modest. Tell me now, is that at all the path I have set you on?”

“Well, no,” is all Marisa can squeak out before Mima interjects with a flat palm.

“Precisely,” Mima says, pointing a finger between Marisa’s eyes, “your path and mine have split. I knew that righteous heart of yours would conflict with my plans and there was no way I could stomp it out, however…”

Mima swiftly turns around to meet Marisa face-to-face again, a very uncharacteristic motherly smile on her face, “you have far exceeded all of my predictions and are on the path to become quite a fearsome foe, one that will certainly surpass me. I cannot say I am not proud of your accomplishments thus far.”

She’s proud, of me?! This thought courses through Marisa’s mind like lightning, playing on repeat fast enough to fry her neurons. She wants to say something, some form of elaborate gratitude, but all she can shout is, “L-Lady Mima!”

“But,” Mima says, halting Marisa’s speech once again, “with our destinies no longer intertwined, you should no longer need my instruction, and take what is left of your life into your own hands.” Marisa gulps down a hefty wad of air, emotions running amok. After all this time, baby bird is finally being kicked out of the nest.

“Now do with yourself what you must, however,” she continues, turning any softness in her gaze to a classic sneer of determination, “if you get in my way, I will not hesitate to waste all this time I have spent on you.” With all of that said, not wanting any input from her student, Mima lightly pushes aside Marisa, beginning to take her leave.

“Today, I have business to conduct, so you best heed my warning starting now.”

* * *

“And, to this day, I haven’t needed to,” Marisa states, finally beginning to wrap up her recollection spiel, “I understand Lady Mima wasn’t a good person, she’s an evil spirit for a reason, but… I still owe it to her.” Marisa looks somberly to the road ahead of her, sighing, “guess it’s why it’s been on my mind lately, I think I’ve just needed some closure, but haven’t been able to get it.” Immediately after muttering this, Reimu swiftly rises to her feet, looking down to the ground with shadows over her eyes. Marisa looks up momentarily, curious to if Reimu’s just bored or needs a bathroom break.

“Marisa, I have to show you something,” she states, turning around and waiting to hear her friend’s footsteps. She’s decided she’s had enough. No matter how large a schism this may cause between the two, it’s better for Marisa’s sake to not have a cloud of such uncertainty linger for so long. A long-term ruse such as this only serves to get more severe with the passage of time, and while now it’s still quite the extenuating happenstance, perhaps any wound caused by it can be better healed better today than tomorrow or any coming junctions. Marisa, not saying a word, merely follows in Reimu’s footsteps.

The two course through the entirety of the shrine’s interior, passing by where the Yin-Yang Orbs are stored, past the inner lobby, and right through Reimu’s bedroom. What they come across is the unkempt, dusty interior of what is essentially an empty closet. As Reimu remembers, within it is the shrine’s hokora, its well-being threatened by discarded alcohol bottles and little trinkets acquired through any incident. Despite the constant damage done upon the Hakurei Shrine, through fires or danmaku duels, this sanctioned little area has stood through it all for good reason: to not let its contents release into the world. 

Marisa isn’t completely unaware of this little corner, as during some festivals she’s had to run in here to retrieve booze before, but she’s perplexed as to why they’re brought in here now. Despite being clueless to this whole debacle, in this moment she’s got a sinking feeling in her stomach that she’s about to witness something she won’t enjoy. She’s immediately proven correct in this instance, nearly jumping in shock as Reimu violently jerks aside all the junk in the hokora, revealing contents deeper within the walls behind it. Marisa’s not knowledgeable of the equipment shrine maiden’s use for miracles or exorcisms, but these are unmistakably seals.

At first, there are no words exchanged, Reimu struggling to find what to say and Marisa having no clue as to what’s actually going on. Some pieces get brainstormed amidst Marisa’s thought cloud, but she wants any suspicions confirmed. “What’s the point of showing me this, Reimu?” she asks, raising her brow and adopting a deadpan attitude. Reimu slaps her hand above the hokora, looking to Marisa with unmistakable dread on her face.

“Mima,” she states, taking a deep breath, “she’s sealed here.”

“Wha- what do you mean she’s sealed here, and why?” Marisa rambles, slowly piecing things together but still obviously baffled. “And how long?” she adds, turning this swiftly into an interrogation.

“Right after I installed the spellcard rules, right before the scarlet mist took over Gensokyo,” Reimu says, shaky from confessing, “she came here, to try and prevent it from taking place by subjugating me, but I had to stop her once and for all.”

“Scarlet mist…” Marisa mumbles, raising fingers to count, “that was years ago, Reimu! She was locked up here for that long, and ya didn’t even tell me!?” Perhaps it’s irrational, perhaps it’s stupid, but Marisa cannot help but be absolutely furious right now. In her own words, she knows Mima was not a good soul, but she was still someone influential to her and responsible for where she wound up now.

“I had to!” Reimu exclaims, slight desperation in her tone, hoping that Marisa will come to understand sooner rather than later. “If I didn’t, do you know how much risk Gensokyo is in, and whose to say we’d be spared?” 

Marisa’s teeth begin to grit, anger reaching it’s climax within her system, “I get that, but I don’t care what you thought of her, she saved my life, Reimu. I can’t just let someone like that go just like that! Years spent just wonderin’ where she wound up, just for someone I thought I could trust with anything to tell me she’s lied to me all this time.”

“Marisa, you’re being delusional,” Reimu states, feeling a slight well of irritation herself, finding her friend’s statements to be on the ridiculous side, “if I told you back then, whose to say you don’t pick up where she left off?”

“Oh, so you’re sayin’ it took you until _now_ to finally start trustin’ me?” Marisa asks, voice reaching a shrill tone and nearly blowing the roof off the shrine. “I know you did what you had to, but, to keep it from me for so long, when you knew it was so important…”

“Stop that, please,” Reimu says, pleading with Marisa to cease taking this to the extremes, but take an already restless girl and fuel her with a revelation such as this, it’s hard for anyone to keep composure.

“Nah, in fact, I wanna know what else you’ve kept from me,” Marisa retorts, trembling from sheer anger, “what else does the holier-than-thou Hakurei Shrine Maiden gotta keep from lesser beings like me?” Marisa’s eyes are split wide open, body language reading like she’s about to pounce at Reimu. Fortunately, she stays in place, knowing that even under these circumstances, a scuffle is the last thing they should engage in.

“Marisa…” Before she can try gathering her bearings, Marisa’s turned away from her, beginning to storm off.

“Whatever, I don’t wanna hear it anyways,” she exclaims, throwing a hand up in the air and continuing her stampede away. Reimu feebly attempts to catch up, but she’s trying to tag one of the fastest people in the land on a mission to get the hell away from her. So, once she’s outside, all she can do is yell for someone whose already mounted her broomstick and taken to the skies.

“Wait!” Reimu exclaims, panicked cry falling on deaf ears as Marisa has already become far gone. Reimu pulls at her hair, wanting to rip it all straight from the scalp, feeling a mixture of self-deprecating anger and years of regret.

This may not be something she can feasibly clean up anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been something I've had cooking in the back of my head for a while, mostly due to just being a huge fan of PC-98 Touhou and falling victim to memes of "Mima when." Highly Responsive to Prayer isn't considered canon due to its odd nature here. Hope anyone who read this enjoyed it!


End file.
